Academy: Frenemies
by Joel182
Summary: Academy is a wrestling high school with a multitude of stories to tell. The forth story follows Ted DiBiase - the boy who wanted it all until he nearly lost it all. Cody/Ted. SLASH!


**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING EXPECT THE PLOT! THANK VINNY MAC FOR THE NAMES OF THE CHARACTERS AS WELL AS SOME OTHER THINGS! ENJOY! XD**

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><p>It all began with a teddy bear. He was large – almost the length of me at the time – and he was covered in silken black fur with wintery blue eyes sewed into his ebony sockets. I remember thinking at the time how much I wanted that teddy bear. And so, I took up a nearby rock, and killed the boy holding it. The moment I took hold of what was rightfully now my teddy bear, a little idea sparked into my head. The idea that I could always have whatever I wanted.<p>

Two days later, I disposed of that bear. His fur wasn't – after all – as soft as I thought it would be.

As the years have passed, the need to want, and the want to have quickly became two insatiable feelings that soon evolved past petty crimes that were messy and often times got me in trouble, by finding its way to a more lucrative means. Money. Anything in this world, I came to know at a young age, can be bought with money. Things. Trust. People. Sex. Love. All of it. I could have it all with the almighty dollar.

And I did have it all, until I met Cody Rhodes.

The first time I met Cody he was just nine years old. An easily scared little boy – with jet black hair and sky blue eyes – who, upon meeting someone new, quickly tucked tail and hid behind the man introducing us. A family "friend" in Randy Orton. I never honestly liked Randy. He was just the cocky kid with too much money and too many spoils. But then so was I, which explains why I couldn't like him. However, because of family ties (my father and Bob Orton were friends since the Stone Age) we weren't to openly despise each other, rather we were expected to become great friends. So we did. And the glue that held us together was Cody Rhodes.

And he still is.

But, when I first met Cody (I was ten at the time) I knew immediately that I didn't like him. Not because of who he was (something I never knew at the time; son of my father's enemy Dusty Rhodes), but rather because he resembled my teddy bear so much. The one I had come to hate. The one I had killed for. The only difference was the fear in his eyes. Those scared blue eyes that peeked around Randy's arm. They instantly drew in me a desire to take him away. So I acted on it. Violence wasn't necessary at this juncture, so instead I stopped Randy mid-sentence and asked him this:

"How much for the kid?"

And with a cocky grin, the twelve year old replied, "He's not for sale."

Inevitably, after being told that numerous times afterwards, I begrudgingly began to hang out with Randy Orton just so I could spend time and 'share' Cody Rhodes. Overtime, Randy's presence (due to applying for The Academy) became less and less there, and in the end it became just like I wanted. It became just Cody and I.

For the most part, I'd always have Cody over at my house because that way he couldn't bring along anyone else, and was forced to play with only me. But on some occasions, my brothers would often drift into my side of the mansion and try to take Cody away from me. It wasn't until I broke Mark's leg did they stop doing that. I still do remember the look on everyone's faces when I pushed Mark down the long flight of stairs. Brett was shocked into stone, Mark was writhing in pain, and I was looking on with nonchalance. Cody, however, had outmatched us all when he simply walked over to me – and with a trembling pair of hands – gave me a tiny hug. He was shaking like a leaf, scared shitless of what he just witnessed, but yet he clung to me and wet my shoulder with his silent tears.

Brett eventually ran to our father. And our father slapped him across the face for lying. Cody – who was witnessing (from behind the wall of the doorway) my two bothers getting punished and me getting off the hook – never once stepped into defend anyone. He just looked on, and flinched when my father struck both his sons.

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><p>"Ted" I fling my head back to see Cody looking down (fear still stuck in those baby blues), "W-We have to go. Class is about to start."<p>

I simply turn on my side and nestle my head on his lap. I can feel his entire body stiffen to the movement. "I don't want to go."

"We have to alright." I look at him again. And just as I thought, his face is still slinging to fear even though his voice had somehow lost it. "I've got Undertaker's class coming up soon. You know he'll kill me if I miss it." He pauses. "Ted, please. Let me go. If I miss any more classes, I'll never graduate."

"No." I state affirmatively as I turn away again. "I don't want to."

He sighs. "Ted—"

"If you go" I chip in coldly and slice through his words, "I'll have you expelled."

To this he doesn't reply. Instead, he simply let outs a soft shaky breath to allow the very real threat to nail him to the ground.

"Now sing me a lullaby. I wanna sleep."

He starts off with a trembling voice, but soon a passable song comes out and soothes me into a sublime slumber.

When I woke up, Cody was gone.

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><p>I've been dating someone. If I think correctly, I believe she could be mistaken for my girlfriend. Her name is Maryse (I've never cared to know more than that). She used to attend this lovely school, so she's older than me, but she was kicked out on bad behavior. Like me, she believed that she was rightfully entitled to have whatever she wanted. Oddly enough, despite me showing no interest, her affection shifted to me the moment I walked into the nightclub she worked at. I liked her accent, so I bought her and had her equipped with a yearlong visitor's pass to The Academy. During that time, Mayrse had only been by my dorm room (that I only had taken up – as opposed to building and living in a large condo – because it interested me) a total of three times. This was the third time. And like always, she and I drank and stained every inch of the small dorm room with our sex. Mayrse was an animal in bed, but nothing in my mind could compare to Cody. Even though it had been two years, the scratches on the side of my neck were still present. And much like the conscience I lacked, they reminded me – in vivid detail – that I had raped Cody Rhodes.<p>

When Mayrse and I finally finish, I watch her pack up her things. This was a break up sex. Her visitor's pass had expired. Unlike all other women in my life, Mayrse was the only one who completely understood that concept and instead of fighting, she simply washed up, re-did her makeup and left without a trace. I felt a little sad inside. It wasn't every day I met a woman like Mayrse. But all things come to a natural end.

So it's easy to imagine why, as I look at Cody obediently wearing a sleeping mask and a pair of bass headphones connected to a playing I-pod, I can easily find myself thinking:

/Why haven't you?/

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><p>There's an old storage area at the back of our middle school. It was meant for the rusty and useless equipment that at one point were all meant to be used, but unexpectedly forgotten. That was where I raped Cody. I still remember what the place smelt like. It stunk of metal, and rubber, and dust all mixed in with sweat and blood. The only light that came in had slipped through the slits in the plantation-style windows at the front. There would have been more light swimming in, had I not locked the door.<p>

Cody fought with me. I expected him to fight with me, so I had taken care to bulk up during our friendship years. I had to be bigger than he was if I ever planned to keep him down. When fighting didn't work, he clawed away at every bit of skin he could get his hands on. At first I took them head-on, but soon they began to drink away at the pleasure this should be bringing. So I took a break and held them down. And through a dark tone, I instructed Cody to stop or I'd kill him.

Eventually, I could feel his hands loosen under my grip. His willpower drained by the second. Satisfied, I continued, and at first Cody tried to silence himself, but I grabbed hold of his jaw and pried his mouth open. The first sound that escaped was a blood-curling scream. It rang through my body and echoed over my bones. In that moment I truly felt like stopping. But this had been a plan set up for years now. I couldn't let it fail. I wanted Cody. I had always wanted Cody. And I always get what I want.

When we were through, I remember watching Cody like a starving wolf watches an unguarded baby, and then thinking /If only Randy had let me buy you, this would never have happened/. I wanted to say that at the time, but then I soon got bored of watching Cody play possum and excused myself from the storage shed.

I didn't return until later in the evening. And when I did, Cody was still lying there. I panicked for a moment and quickly checked on him.

"Cody?" He didn't move. He didn't respond. I gently shook his shoulder. "Cody. Answer me." As calm as I sounded, I wasn't calm in the least. I hadn't gotten bored of this teddy bear, and yet here I had gone and broken it.

However, as soon as a smidgen of regret began to take root, Cody finally moved. I moved back to give him a bit more space, which he never used for a while until he finally mustered up the strength to shift his legs. I watched the whole episode from behind his back. Due to the door being open and the sun still present, I clearly saw all the marks I had left on his skin. I saw the bruises on his wrists, and arms, and legs, and thighs. I could see his left shoulder joint beginning to swell beneath the skin to the color of an ugly shade of purple. That's where I had grabbed him, and first pinned him. As my eyes slide over my doings, Cody finally grabbed a where with it all and soon tried to get back some dignity by trying to stand on his own. His back instantly gave out. He grabbed it as soon as he fell down, but didn't let out a single whimper of pain. Instead he silently sat there gently – yet shakily – massaging every part of his sacrum that he could feel.

I felt sorry for him. More sorry than I felt for the kid I had killed. More sorry than I felt for Mark. So, I reached down – without putting much thought into what I was doing – and stretched out my hand.

"Cody." I called almost quietly as though I were trying to not call at all. His hand stopped moving, and he began to turn. I felt anxious. This was the first time I had ever raped somebody, and unlike every other action I had ever committed, I couldn't draw a picture of what his face would look like now.

When he turned to me, I saw a tear-stricken face in place of his usual look of joy and admiration. I saw an undying fear molded into his baby blues. I saw a busted lower lip that had been the result of a sloppy kiss. I saw deep gradient marks around his jaw. When Cody turned to me, I saw regret.

I regretted this. I hated this. I never wanted this. I had just wanted Cody. Not him _and _these feelings.

For what seemed like an eternity, I stood there staring at him and he stared back at me. Then, when it was all over – when that image had been burnt into my mind – he took my hand and allowed me to help him to his feet. From this angle, I could see all the damage down to him. His chest was covered in marks – some the cause of broken bones, others the cause of teeth, and all the cause of force – and as I looked down past the deep hand-print indents in his hips (outlining where I had been holding him for the most part) I saw the horrific sight of blood bathing his thighs and legs, and pooling at his feet.

God. What have I done? I knew I should have been thinking this. It was natural to think this. But I didn't. I couldn't. I had planned this. All those years of wanting, I had planned this. I had studied this. I had practiced this. I knew this. I had planned, from day one, to have Cody Rhodes at all costs. This was all costs.

"Here" I threw him my T-Shirt. He sloppily caught it. "Clean up."

He did – starting with the blood as well as its spine-cringing source – and then rubbed himself with the cleaner sides to get rid of the sweat and muck that coated him. I watched him intently as he winced a bit to each new found pain, and wondered to myself if he would ever stop shaking. After ten minutes, he was as clean as he could be at the moment, so I threw him his clothes.

"Get dressed."

He did without a single word, and even took care to button up the torn dress-shirt. However, due to having been yanked off, his pants were ruined to the point of being useless. Cody looked at them, and then at me. I looked back. He then simply clutched the tops of it in his trembling grasp to hold it all in place. I washed my eyes over his attire. He looked like someone who had been raped.

"Come with me."

And he did.

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><p>It's been two years since I claimed Cody. For some reason, after that day, he and I grew far more attached to one another. He became like a shadow of me and I was like the ever-present body guard. We were inseparable, but then, two weeks after that fateful day, I had graduated from middle school. And Cody couldn't afford to come with me. When I heard the news that I would be attending the Academy by myself, I quickly took charge of the situation by using the ultimate means of persuasion. The almighty dollar, like it should have, bought me Cody Rhodes. He enrolled in The Academy and now sits quietly under my thumb with the ever-present knowledge that one wrong misstep would be the end of his meal ticket.<p>

Despite it being two years since then, I'm still just as confused as I was then about Cody's actions. For every rape case, if the victim lives, he or she is encased in trauma and fear until either justice, new life, or death takes them away from the pain. Cody was obviously traumatized by what I did because he can never sleep on his own. But then again, and strangely enough, he can only fall asleep when he's my arms. It was something I found out by accident when I purposefully – due completely to my own boredom – decided to hop into bed with him and hold him tightly just to see if he would scream and fight. He didn't. Instead, he looked up at me with those scared eyes and then buried his face in my chest. It wasn't until he completely fell to slumber did Cody stop shaking.

Normally I wouldn't let the little things bother me. But in Cody's case, all that seem to bother me are these little things, because no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to figure out why he's still with me. Expulsion after all is simply a pretty word for freedom. In other words, 'disobey and you're free'. So why bother staying with a threat like that.

"DiBiase!" I look up at the sound of my name only to find a sharp kick on the other side. It lands heavily on the side of my head and I land on the floor. When I come to, I see Coach Jericho bearing over me with his ever-angry scowl and ever-angry voice ordering me in my ringing ears to take my pansy ass and go directly to the nurses' station. I obey and limp along.

Once there, I see Cody sitting on the edge of one of the beds. Evan is sitting beside him. I quickly find a place to conceal myself because this is one of those rare moments where I can see what Cody is really like when I'm not there with a threat and a rape past. It takes a while, but I finally manage to sneak into earshot and hone in on their conversation, catching it at this juncture:

"I can't believe a teacher would hit you like that." Says Evan with a voice of an angel.

"It's Undertaker. What do you expect?" Cody laughs a bit, but then rubs the back of his head in some pain.

They sit like that momentarily, before Evan pipes in with a less than chirpy voice. "I can't believe you recovered so quickly from a hit like that. I would have probably passed out."

"Ah, don't worry about it." When, exactly, could Cody Rhodes sound so casual? "I'm used to taking hits. Some far worse than this."

I find my heart stopping abruptly to that sentence. I wanted to go over and reveal myself in ire. I never once hit Cody since that incident. I never laid a hand on him since that day. How dare he lie like that? And to my face!

"You're really brave Cody" Evan speaks up with a tinge of admiration.

/No he's not you idiot!/ is what I begin to think /You don't know that he can't sleep at night without someone there to cuddle him! You don't know how much he can't stop shaking at the mere sight of me!/ Deadly anger rises in me /Just look into his eyes damn it! He stinks of fear!/ The moment I think that I see a hand outstretched in the distance. The hand turns, coils to only one protruding index finger, and points at me. This hand knows. It knows that I'm the cause of Cody's fear. It knows that I'm the reason he's like this. It knows that I've broken Cody Rhodes.

It would take me a while to realize that I was unconsciously pointing to myself with my own finger. And as I came to realize it, I couldn't help but sadly think that this was a conscience, and that it really did hurt.

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><p>Cody came to the dorm late that night. Curfew had been set for him at nine o clock. He didn't come back until ten.<p>

I'm not exactly sure how long I had been sitting in our fold out couch for, but I knew for certain that it had to have been at least three or four hours. After my visit to the nurses' station I took up arms and left unseen. I had argued with the idea of simply jumping into my Lamborghini and driving like hell for home, but when I looked at the dorm – my home for nearly three years – I couldn't bring myself to resist it's inviting charms. This was the only sanctuary I knew. And I shared it with a man I had destroyed.

When Cody got back, he immediately saw me sitting – slumped and lifeless – in the couch. I kept thinking in that moment how much I didn't want him to see me. How much I didn't want him to see this place. This room. This blood. I didn't want any of it. Yet, this time, I didn't get what I wanted. Right then, I thought it must have just been Karma teaching me a lesson. Little did I know though, that I really did want Cody to find me there, in our couch, bleeding from the wrists. Little did I know that I really wanted him to see me with a conscience.

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><p>There was a moment in my childhood when I realized that I was crossing the line. It was when I found hardcore porn magazines tucked away under my older brother's bed. He had been gone that week to the hospital for the broken leg, so I took the liberty to snoop in his side of the mansion. I found a side of my brother – a side of man – that I never knew existed. By the time the week was over I had already filled my head with thoughts not meant for a child. I knew now how to get what I wanted. How to get Cody Rhodes. I knew then, that I had truly crossed the line.<p>

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><p>To be quite honest, I never expected Hell to look like the room of a hospital. But I figured, as my eyes adjusted to the light, that this was all just a threshold. It only made sense that the gates be in a place that gave life and death on a daily basis. I had the feeling that when I finally did fall asleep, I would be waking up in the bowels of Hell where creatures would do to me – for eternity – what I've done to Cody Rhodes. A very real chill came over me and dumped a bucket full of cold fear on my body. I immediately thought I don't want to die/.

A few seconds ticked by and I found myself being more awake than asleep. The hospital room didn't change into a fiery pit of torment. Instead, my eyes began to regain their full focus and the room became far too vivid to be a hazy dream. It, dare it be said, seemed real. The machines, the feel of rough fabric, the needles in my arms, the stiff air, and the light – all of it seemed so real. I felt at ease. Maybe I had been forgiven in some life and this was just the space between Heaven and Hell. Maybe no one knew where I had to go yet and so they left me here instead.

With Cody.

That was the realization that fully woke me up. In no life would Cody be there with me because I had only slit one wrist. Not two.

I had to be dreaming, but still I gave it a shot. "Cody?" My throat was inexplicably dry.

"Ted!" He spoke so loudly that it hurt my eardrums. Only then did I realize that I never got the kick to my ear checked out. "Ted! Thank God you're alive!" He drops down gently onto me, taking care to bury his head in the cup of my clavicle. His warm skin against mine and the bristles of his hair rubbing against me…I missed them all in those few moments of honest death.

My arm – the untouched one – comes up to wrap around his shoulder. I had wanted to die. I had wanted to die. But I didn't get what I wanted. And I was happy. So very, very happy. For that sole joy, tears stream down my face. The last time I had cried was when I left Cody in that shed. I was frighteningly mad then – unsure of whether I should be happy or not, and slightly frustrated with the cocktail of feelings – but now I know for certain what I am. And what I am is glad.

We stayed that way for a long time, before my arm lost the strength to hold him anymore and he slipped out of my grasp. A short moment passed over us where I lay drinking in his teary-expression and eventually looked away in shame. All I do is make him cry.

"Cody" I start in a small, timid voice "I'm sorry. For everything." He doesn't say a word – just like back then – and it unnerves me. I don't want to look at him because I now feel fear, and I'm afraid he'll see it welling in my eyes. "You shouldn't stay with me Cody. You should go." I scoff a bit to force back the ball down my throat. "Don't worry. I won't have you expelled. I never intended to."

/That's right/, I think as my eyes rake the sheets, /I never did. I just wanted him to stay with me. Always./

Cody doesn't reply to anything I've said, and it forces me to face him. He's crying again, and before I can react to it, he throws himself on me – this time with more force – and holds me in a tight embrace. Any tighter and my madly beating heart would have surely flown the coop.

"I was so scared!" He shouts in my chest. "I thought you had died! I thought you had left me!" His body starts shaking again. Not out of a two-year fear. But out of fear of truly losing me. I think I finally understand why Cody never left. "I thought –"

"I get it." I place my hand – once it regains consciousness – back over his shoulder. Even though he's grown all these years, I'm still bigger than him. I still feel, that by this very hand, I could crush him to dust. So I choose to hold him gently. I choose to not hurt him. Not again. _Never_ again. "I love you Cody."

His breathing staggers a bit, but he gets out an "I love you too" before caving to unending tears.


End file.
